13eyond
by chimericalGypsy
Summary: AU: What would happen if adults played the Game? Oh, wait, you didn't think that could happen, did you? ((A better description comes when I'm not on a time crunch, okay? Okay.)) Rated T for a helluvalot of cursing and god knows what else to come.
1. Prologue

**Homestuck**

13eyond

April Conley

Homestuck © 2009 Andrew Hussie

13eyond © 2013 April Conley

All rights reserved. This novel and any

portion thereof may not be reproduced

or replicated without expressed permission

by the author.

Unless Hussie wants to dish out some sicknasty,

in which case _BRING IT YOU GLORIOUS  
SUNNOVABITCH. _

**Prologue**

I am writing this in confidence that you will not tell anyone else these truths:

I have no idea what I am doing.

I have no idea what I have done.

I have no idea if the world has ended.

I have no idea if this Game ended the world.

I have no idea how I corrupted the Game.

And, I have no idea how I am supposed to save it.


	2. Act 1, Chapter 1

Act 1, Chapter 1

Purloin

\- chimericalGypsy [CG] began pestering glacialAnchorite [GA] at 15:06 -

[15:06] CG: Didn't I say it would be weird as hell?

[15:06] GA: That is an understatement.

[15:07] CG: Prolly. I wasn't sure just how weird? I just knew it would be. I guess.

[15:07] GA: I can handle myself, stop worrying.

[15:09] GA: How do you know all of this, anyway?

\- chimericalGypsy [CG] ceased pestering glacialAnchorite [GA] at 15:12 -

Today was a good day for Kris Olden, for it is his 23rd birthday. It wasn't really special, but knowing a present was in the mail from his close friend June brightened the otherwise uneventful birthday. Today is February 5th. Unknowingly, this day would mark the beginning of the end.

Standing before a mirror, Kris pulls his weighty winter coat on, and soon works to tighten it to his thin frame. He fluffs his wiry caramel hair with his skeletal fingers, only to flatten it with a beanie once again. _What a mess_ , he huffed. A fit with his coat reminded him that the damned thing was a size too big. He resolved himself to not be perturbed by this annoyance however; Kris is determined to have a good day.

As expected, the wind chill was below 0, freezing the blanket of snow into permanent wrinkles across the gently roaming land. Even the lake's waves were locked into a immovable toss. He stepped out of the wheelhouse hatch and took a full blast of the blustery winter blast.

"FUCK!" Kris yawped, stiffening to bear the cold. Living on a moored fishing boat the size of a middle-class home had its disadvantages; in this case being terribly high off the ground and thereby getting a full fury of the wintery hate. Kris made his way about the boat, soon walking down the ramp to the docks. He was the only ship dock there, which was to say he was the only stubborn idiot to live on the boat out on the Great Lakes in the middle of winter. Once on the ground, he marched to the mailbox that was nearly a football field away from the docks. Unfortunately, Kris discovered that the package he had hoped for had yet to be delivered. He checked his phone again; the tracking ID clearly said it had reached at _least_ the post office. He groaned, _fine, I'll go to the post office!_

Another brisk march led Kris to his tan crossover, of which he walked about quickly to be sure all the tires and their chains were in order. _CRACK!_ , ice shattered as the door was opened. Kris crawled in just far enough to engage the ignition, and retreated quickly to slam the door back shut. Another twenty minutes of fussing about and waiting for the engine to warm up, and he was on his way.

The winter wasteland of snow and ice seemed to stretch on for ages, only broken up by wooden fences and the rare farmhouse sighting. In the distance, the power plant could be recognized, the billowing smoke rising into the atmosphere. Grooves in the road set the crossover on a railed path, adding countless minutes onto an already long trip. None of this particularly mattered, however; Kris was determined to get that birthday present.

The birthday present in question was from a close friend of his, one he was quite fond of. And she had insisted that he _must_ obtain the present today, yet she did not divulge the reason.

A small building swelled larger and larger ahead; the post office. The pale beige stone and the square shape offered an unintentional likeness to a cardboard box. Only one set of tracks led to and away from the building with no vehicle in sight, so either deliveries were being made, or already done for the day. Kris leaned towards the latter, but decided to walk in and check for the present anyway.

Inside, the room was split into two sections, the front, which Kris stood in, glazing over a hundred or so golden doors, and the back, the sorting room. Kris checked his box, number 36, only to find it barren. In mid-turn for the exit, he noticed the door to the back wasn't quite shut. Hesitantly, he approached the door, wondering if he should glance inside for the package. The tracking assured it had arrived this far, after all. And it wasn't as though just _looking_ was against the law, right?

He gently pushed on the door, and with a high creak it opened just enough for light to flood in, and light up a box with a drawing of a kitten; June's box. Kris checked behind him, and then pushed in just far enough to retrieve the package. Without missing a beat, he left, and drove on home.

Some hours and one elated conversation later, the installation of _Sburb Beta_ had completed. The screen flashed through a flurry of texts, then the logo with silly excuses for the load wait blinking through, and finally it opened to the game.

\- glacialAnchorite [GA] began pestering chimericalGypsy [CG] at 20:12 -

[20:12] GA: What the fuck is this, June!

\- chimericalGypsy [CG] ceased pestering glacialAnchorite [GA] at 20:12 -


End file.
